


LAUNCH DATE

by impulsewriter (trilogycal)



Series: S8 [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: ALL TAGS THAT APPLY TO EP1 APPLY TO THIS AS WELL, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, Episode: s08e01 Launch Date, F/M, Gen, M/M, Spoilers, besides the obvious one at the beginning, if u find any easter eggs lmk in the comments ;) there's a few, one (1) mention of a maybe curse word (skanky), will finish tagging at a different date it's late rn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 22:20:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17516885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trilogycal/pseuds/impulsewriter
Summary: The Paladins spend one last night on Earth in preparation for the launch of the Atlas: Lance works up the courage to ask Allura an important question. Keith tries to escape unnecessary feelings. Romelle has a dangerous confrontation.rewrite of s8ep1!





	LAUNCH DATE

**Author's Note:**

> me on december 15th, furiously typing with tears in my eyes: dammit jim.......i'm a fic writer, not a canon fixer.................
> 
> most of us can agree that season 8 was a total bummer. in a fit of unadulterated rage, i dedicated my december and january to rewriting the season (specifically the second half). i'm slowly letting go of the dozens of voltron fic drafts in my computer, but. it's hard. i doubt i'll ever release them, but this is my longest work TO DATE so i'm posting it no matter what. we'll see how good it does, though; i didn't strike while the iron was hot, so most of y'all have probably already suppressed the memory of season 8 ever happening and will be confused about this fic, lmao. 
> 
> hope you enjoy nonetheless

 

 

 

> _“Hold it! I’m getting all shook up!”_

“I don’t really sound like that.” Pidge paused uncertainly. She hugged the pillow in her arms tighter, and glanced down at the white terrier curled up beside her. “…do I?”

 

Bae-Bae lifted her head at the sound of Pidge’s voice, blinking drowsily as the cheesy music swelled to a crescendo. She grunted noncommittally and returned her head down to her paws.

 

Pidge bit her lip. “Does that mean yes?” she asked.

 

Bae-Bae gave no response, other than the subtle shift of her small body as she curled up a little tighter. Pidge raised her pillow and grabbed her comm. device out from between her legs, unlocking the screen and scrolling for the number she needed. “Hunk will let me know,” she said, tinged with desperation as she found the number in her contact list. “I hope…” 

 

* * *

 

 

Hunk waved as his parents exited the room. “Love you, too!” he called after them, watching after them until the door slid shut. The quiet clinking of metal against porcelain caught his attention, and he turned to see a lone figure slumped over the table farthest from the door. Smiling softly, Hunk carried the box of banana cake over to the table and sat down.

 

“Launching tomorrow,” he said lightly. “The big day!”

 

Lance let his eyes flicker up from his black _cafecito_ , letting the current of the coffee carry his spoon away from his hand, but remained silent. The steam from the drink drifted up into his face and warmed his skin, making it feel clammy as he rubbed his forehead thoughtfully.  “Yup.”

 

Hunk put a hand on his head. “Man, it seems like forever ago when we piled into the Blue Lion and blasted out into space!” He chuckled fondly. “We really had no idea what we were getting into, did we?”

 

Lance shook his head quietly. “Mm-hm.” 

 

“But, now it’s different,” Hunk continued, “we’ve seen it all, now! Magical robot cat ships, mermaids, alternate realities, world-eating worm creatures, a teleporting space wolf – it feels so surreal, doesn’t it?” He waved his hand out, as if gesturing to a montage of their adventures.

 

“Mm.”

 

“And now we’re rugged veterans, heading off into battle for the last time! Guess that makes us heroes, or something?” Hunk quirked his eyebrows, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Like, the kind that would have their own TV show?” He laughed and pumped both of his fists, his eyes sparkling. “Did you watch the season one premier last night?! Oh, it’s so cool, right! It’s so cool. They got you almost spot-on –“ He shot Lance a pair of finger guns, then morphed his face into a grave scowl and crossed his arms tightly. “ – but Coran is all, he’s like all solemn and super serious all the time. And Keith? He’s happy! He’s happy, like, all the time!” Hunk laughed, smacking his hand on the table at the hilarity. “And Shiro has a Scandinavian accent! It sounds so ridiculous, like, I couldn’t keep a straight face whenever he opened his mouth! He reminds me of that guy we met in that one universe – Sven, remember him? Exactly like that, except times ten!”

 

Lance nodded along to Hunk’s raving, giving appropriate hums of agreement during the pauses. “Yeah. Uh-huh. Cool.”

 

Hunk narrowed his eyes at his friend, who was being all too quiet. A smirk crept onto his face, and he put his cheek in his hand, leaning on his elbow and letting out a fake sigh. “And Allura… well, she’s pretty different, too.”

 

Lance confirmed his suspicions and looked up immediately. “Different how?” 

 

Hunk looked up at the ceiling, screwing up his face in exaggerated thought. “Well, for example, I think they’re hinting at some sort of _thing_ between her and Keith.” Lance’s eyes boggled out. “Like, she’s always the damsel in distress, and Keith is always so eager to rescue her. I think they’re fabricating a romance between two characters who are better off as friends to draw in a certain kind of crowd, you know? And another thing…”

 

“ _What_?” Hunk jumped, startled as Lance slammed his fist down on the table. His cup of _café cubano_ jolted at the bang, some of the hot, sugary liquid inside sloshing over the rim. “They’re pairing up Allura and _Keith_?” Lance demanded. “ _Those_ two? They hardly even interact outside of Voltron stuff! Keith’s had more romantic chemistry with knives, and Allura….” He trailed off and clenched his teeth together, tightening his fist atop the surface of the table. 

 

Hunk blinked at Lance’s tangible anger. “Well, how would _you_ change it?”

 

Lance took the bait almost too easily. “Let Lance have a chance, for one thing.”

 

“Oh, so you’d throw in a love triangle!” Hunk teased. “I like where you’re taking this! We need to get you on the development team for this show – with your visions, _Voltron_ could be revolutionary!”

 

Lance slumped, all of the fight leaving him in a long, deep sigh. “No, it’s not about that.” He folded his hands, eyes trailing off to the side. He spotted the small puddle of _cafecito_ spilled onto the table from his outburst, and reached for the napkin dispenser. “I don’t even want to think about her and Keith together. It’s too much for my heart to handle.”

 

Hunk’s face softened into a sympathetic frown. “Did you ever ask her out?” he asked, watching Lance mop up the spilled liquid. “I know you said you were going to.”

 

Lance shook his head.

 

“Wait, you chickened out? You, Lance McClain, wimped out of asking a girl on a date?” Hunk asked incredulously.

 

“I didn’t chicken out, Hunk,” Lance protested somewhat impatiently. “I never got the chance to ask her. She’s been in the med bay all day, every day, waiting for the Altean pilot to wake up.” His face darkened, eyes drifting down to his drink once more. “Maybe this isn’t the right time…”

 

Hunk’s eyes widened. “What? No! Lance, this is the _only_ time!” Lance raised an eyebrow, eyes squinting with confusion, and Hunk stood up from his seat. “Tomorrow, we’re gonna be back out in space, fighting the Galra! There is no other time to do this – literally!” He banged his fist on the table, hard enough to prove his point but gentle enough to prevent any more spillage. “If you like her as much as you think you do, you need to seize the moment! Show her a good time before we spend the next – who even knows? – devoting all of our time to fighting the Empire and finding out where the robeast came from!”

 

Lance kept his eyes down on his hands. “I dunno, Hunk….”

 

“Well, lucky for you, I do!” Hunk jabbed a finger down on the table. “After our final briefing, you catch her before she leaves, and ask her out. No buts, no coconuts, got it?”

 

Their faces perked with surprise as a familiar chiptune melody rang out. Lance let his face grow sour at the sound of the _Voltron: Defender of the Universe_ theme song, and Hunk shifted forward to remove the comm. unit from his back pocket and glanced at the screen. “It’s Pidge!” he exclaimed, swiping the screen to pick up the call. “Hey, Pidge! I’m just sitting here with Lance, having a bro-to-bro talk, what’s up with you? …Oh, how do you like the show? …No, you don’t sound like that in real life, Pidge, calm down…”

 

As Hunk got up to leave from the room, he stopped before he exited through the doors, and pointed back at Lance.

 

“After the briefing,” he said, hushed as he moved the comm. away from his face. “No buts, no coconuts.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Welcome to our final briefing here on Earth.”

 

Shiro gazed around the room at the assembly, pausing to let the murmurings go quiet. “It’s been several months since we began to rebuild, and tomorrow, we launch and continue our liberation efforts across plants still under Galra rule.” He looked over at the right side of the table, where Commander Sam Holt sat at the head. “Sam, what does your team report?”

 

“We’ve confirmed no recent Galra activity within several galaxies of the Milky Way,” Sam promptly replied. “It seems that Earth was Sendak’s only target.”

 

“Good,” Shiro said, turning to Commander Iverson seated beside Sam. “How are we on Earth’s defenses?”

 

Iverson answered, “All international Garrison facilities have confirmed defenses are up and running at 100%, with the last base confirming being Antarctica.”

 

“Great. Veronica, how are Atlas preparations?”

 

Veronica pushed her glasses up with one hand, and lowered her PADD down to read from it. “Atlas repairs were completed early last week. Since then, it has passed every test protocol we’ve put it through. We’re all ready to launch tomorrow at dawn, sir.”

 

“Wonderful.” Shiro looked down the table, focusing on Allura sitting on Lance’s left. His tone softened a little bit as he addressed the princess. “Any news on the Altean pilot?”

 

“Still unresponsive,” Allura said, tone carefully neutral. “Vital signs have been stable ever since her initial admission into the clinic. However, we think that she could wake very soon.” Her eyes squinted at the corners as she continued, “Perhaps if we had a little more time, we could question her and potentially find out who sent her...”

 

Keith from two seats away leaned his arms up on the table, peering around Lance to view Allura. “There’s no way to know when she’ll regain consciousness,” he said, methodically countering her suggestion. “Or if she even will. We can’t delay the launch any longer, we need to get back out there and finally end this war before the Galra can reorganize.”

 

“I’m sorry, Allura, but Keith is right,” Shiro said.

 

Allura frowned, pressing her lips together as if to keep herself from saying more. She leaned back in her chair, hiding just out of Keith’s line of sight around Lance, and clenched her hands into fists in her lap.

 

Recognizing her disappointment, Shiro continued, “We’ll be in constant communication with Earth the entire time we’ll be gone. If she wakes up, you’ll be one of the first to know about it, I promise.”

 

He turned back to face the room more directly. “Before this briefing ends, I have one more item to discuss. This is our last night on Earth, and we’ve got a lot of hard, difficult work ahead of us. It might be years before we can return here for good. So I’m ordering you all…” His solemn scowl pulled up, his face brightened by a somewhat mischievous grin. “…to enjoy yourselves. Be with your loved ones for one last night before you say goodbye.”

 

The room murmured a collective, ‘Yes sir!’ before Shiro dismissed them with a smile. He turned to discuss something with Veronica beside him, and the sound of scraping chair legs filled the room.

 

Allura was one of the first to stand, meeting up with Romelle near the entrance and joined her in leaving. Lance watched her go, his chest tightening anxiously; a motion caught his eye, and Hunk waved furiously at him, pointing between him and Allura’s departing form.

 

Lance’s heart caught in his throat, and he stood abruptly, the legs of his chair scratching at the speed. “A-Allura!” he called out, sliding out from in between his seat and the table. She continued on, and Lance jogged after her, Hunk rising too to follow him out.

 

Peering down both ways of the corridor, Lance spotted Allura’s silvery bun bobbing among the crowd about halfway down the hall. “Hey, Allura!” he shouted, raising his arm up for her to see. “Wait up!”

 

The sound of her name made her and Romelle turn, and Allura watched Lance weave through people. “What is it, Lance?” she asked, offering him a smile.

 

Lance folded his hands behind his back and looked askance, cheeks prickling hot. “Oh, nothing much,” he stalled, rocking back and forth on his heels, “just, uh… checking in. So… how are…” He looked back up at her, smiling halfheartedly. “…things?”

 

Allura’s smile faded, and her thin white eyebrows slanted upward, pulled together in sympathy. “I’m sorry,” she began, and Lance’s heart palpitated painfully. “But I really need to be getting back…”

 

“Oh, right,” he said in a forcibly light tone, “yeah. Okay, um.” Allura turned to continue on her way, Romelle following suit, and his voice caught on a snag, words stammering out of his mouth. “Um, well, I-I don’t want to keep you, so…” He trailed off with a rather pathetic fake chuckle, and closed his eyes as they began to sting. He sighed and turned to go his own way – preferably, the way to his private room and a pint of chocolate ice cream – but a tall, stern brick wall of best friend made him freeze in his tracks.

 

Without a word, Hunk reached up and put a hand on his head, spinning him 180 degrees in place. Rearing back, he placed his boot on Lance’s rear end and shoved with those big, strong thigh muscles, sending Lance stumbling to keep himself upright, bumbling right between Romelle and Allura.

 

They jumped apart to avoid him bowling them over, and Lance finally caught his balance again. “Um!” he said, spinning on his heel and twiddling his thumbs together as he faced Allura directly, “Actually, I was wondering if… maybe, i-if you want to, you could have dinner with me tonight?” Hunk, behind them, quirked an eyebrow and gestured with a hand: and?, he appeared to be asking. Lance forced a bigger smile onto his face. “A-and my family – dinner with me and my- and my- and my family?” Hunk gave him a double thumbs up, his grin almost twinkling.

 

Romelle raised her eyebrow curiously; Allura just looked surprised, which, hopefully, was a good sign.

 

Lance continued, “Um, my mom’s cooking for our last night together. She’s making this big feast of all of my favorites, and I – “ Her surprise never faded, but his confidence did, and he diverted his eye away from her, feeling small under his unwavering gaze. “I just thought you could maybe join us.”

 

Hunk put his hands up to his mouth and nervously chewed on his nails as Allura paused, face changing as she considered the idea. “That sounds wonderful,” she began after a moment, and Lance’s hope skyrocketed. “But,” she continued, “I can’t. I’m sorry, maybe some other time.”

 

Allura brushed past him, eyes downcast to the ground. Romelle’s mouth opened and closed like a gaping fish, eyes darting between Lance’s blank expression and Allura’s retreating form. “Allura, wait!” she called, snapping out of her reverie. She reached out and grasped Lance on the upper arm. “Pointy chin – I mean Lance – give me two dobashes, let me talk to her.” 

 

Lance shook his head, shrugging her hand off of his bicep. “No, it’s okay, Romelle. I don’t want to convince her to do something she doesn’t want to do.” He offered her a sideways, watery smile and blinked hard. “I’ll be fine, don’t look at me like that.”

 

Romelle wrung her hands together, and Hunk stepped up to them, making his presence known. “C’mon, buddy,” he said softly, wrapping a large arm around Lance’s slumped shoulders. “I’ll walk you back to your room. Do you want to be alone?” Lance shook his head, biting his lip hard as his eyes began to sting once more.

 

Romelle stared after them as they walked away, their steps quickly falling in tandem. She thinned her lips out as Lance leaned his head on Hunk’s shoulder, body jerking with the telltale motion of a sniffle, and her eyes grew hard and resolute. Spinning on her heel, she turned to follow Allura back to the medbay, eyes glinting with determination.

 

* * *

 

 

Shiro watched Lance speed from the room, Hunk jumping up from his own chair to follow his friend. “So,” he said aloud, “he’s finally making a move.”  

 

“Yeah, seems like it.” A red and white blur moved in the corner of his periphery, as Keith slowly pushed his chair back and rose from the meeting table. “Good for him, I guess.”

 

“Keith…”  

 

Keith winced at the soft sympathy in Shiro’s voice. “Keep your pity to yourself, I’m fine,” he snapped, reaching into his trouser pocket and sliding out his comm. device. The screen lit up as he activated the button to check the time and his notifications, a familiar picture filling the lock screen: a team photo taken a few phoebs – months, Shiro corrected himself – ago, after the paladins recovered from the robeast’s self destruct. Keith himself was in the middle, poking his tongue out at the camera; Lance, an arm around Keith’s shoulders, was giving him bunny ears and grinning brightly. Their heads were brushing. Keith locked his phone once more and slid it back into his pocket. “Are we still on for dinner at 1900? I’ve been dying to try that Korean place in Flagstaff and it’s gonna take, like, an hour to get there unless you speed, which you won’t even let me do even though we won’t be back on Earth for God knows how long.”

 

“Being a Garrison officer can only get you out of one or two tickets, Keith,” Shiro scolded. “Trust me, I tried.”

 

Keith rolled his eyes. “I don’t use my clout for many things, Shiro, let me have this.”

 

“Whatever. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Shiro shook his head. “Is Krolia still coming with us?” he asked, carrying on with the subject change.

 

“Yeah, once she’s done talking to Kolivan, she’s supposed to be meeting us there.” Keith slipped his hands into his pockets, feeling the smooth surface of his comm. device in the left, the keys to his bike and his wallet in the other. “I just hope she doesn’t get lost. She was adamant about finding it herself, but she still hasn’t got the grasp on the whole cell phone thing.” He shrugged. “The screen is too small for her fingers, she says, and yet she won’t let me help her.”

 

“There’s no doubt: she’s your mom.”

 

“Was there any doubt to begin with?”

 

“Not really.” Shiro glanced around the room, eyes catching on the Holts, gathered around Sam’s seat at the conference table. “Well, you’d better go ahead and get ready. You taking the bike or you want me to pick you up?”

 

Keith pulled out his keys and jingled them as an answer. “I’ll pass on riding in your minivan, Pops,” he said over his shoulder as he turned to leave. “Thanks, though!”

 

Shiro cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled after him, “You’ll see how awesome a minivan can be one day, Kogane! Just you wait!”

 

* * *

 

 

Allura gazed through the glass, arms tightly folded across her chest. The Altean pilot on the observation table remained still, sans the slow rise and fall of her chest and the occasional twitch of her hand resting on her chest. Her skin looked sickly pale under the bright beams of the swiveling surgical lamp, pink hair faded and dried out. The electrocardiograph beeped with the pulse of her heart – 90 beats per dobash, dangerously low for an Altean. The surgeons inside were crowded around the machine designed to monitor brain activity; Allura gripped her elbow, digging her thumb hard into the crook of it.

 

The door to her left slid open with a hiss. Allura kept her eyes affixed on the comatose Altean as quiet footsteps approached her, a warm presence stopping right beside her. Their elbows brushed.

 

“Allura,” Romelle murmured, “I know you’re worried about Luca.”

 

“Worried is an understatement.”

 

Romelle pressed her lips together into a thin line, and gazed down at her hands, fingers wrung together. “You know, Luca and I never really got along, back in the colony,” she began, voice hushed. The glass was soundproof, and Luca was tiptoeing the line of unconscious and brain-dead, yet Romelle spoke as if she was spilling a secret. “I always thought she was a bit… much, and she always thought I was never enough. But our brothers were friends during their school years, so we saw each other a fair amount.” Allura remained silent. “…Luca was the outspoken sort. The kind who would tell you what was on her mind, whether you cared or not; the blunt, brutally honest type. Kind of like Keith, I suppose.” Romelle allowed a small, bittersweet smile onto her face. “But, despite our differences, I.. I always admired her for it. To speak one’s mind so openly, so without fear, requires an inner strength that many do not possess.”

 

Allura closed her eyes as Romelle turned to face her. “And, in a way, I still do admire Luca. Remnants of our history together, I suppose. I find myself coming back here, too, to watch over her. To see if she’s alright. It’s never easy, seeing one of your own looking so…” Romelle glanced back toward the room. “…lifeless.”

 

Allura squeezed her arms hard, to stave off the burning sensation of tears. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words were blocked by a lump in her throat.

 

Romelle turned to her, eyes flickering down to her hands on her arms. Her eyes softened, and she reached up to gently, carefully pry Allura’s grip away from herself. “But you have me,” Romelle said, linking Allura’s aching fingers around the crooks of one of her own, reaching up with a  free hand to rub the soreness away from Allura’s arm. “And I want you to relax, if not just for one evening.”

 

The pain slowly faded away from her arms, and Allura grit her teeth as Romelle’s kind face blurred. “I should not,” she mumbled. “It is my duty to watch over my people, and Luca is one of my people.”

 

“No one can be on duty constantly.” Romelle offered her a soft smile. “I want to watch over her. I want to say goodbye, before we launch.” The corner of her mouth quirked upward, and she reached out to playfully punch Allura’s arm. “And, I want you to go out to dinner with Pointy Chin.”

 

“Dinner? With Lance?” Allura asked, blinking with surprise. “Why Lance..?”

 

Romelle smirked. “Are you saying you’re one to turn down free food?” she countered.

 

“Um…” Allura pursed her lips, and glanced down to seriously consider. Romelle’s chime-like laughter made her look up again, and she found her own comm. device, unlocked and opened up to Lance’s number, staring her own. Romelle winked at her from above the device.

 

“Sneak me back a snack,” she said, placing the unit in Allura’s hand. “And maybe get Hunk something, too. He’s told me good things about Lance’s family, especially their food.”

 

Allura nodded, and let Romelle push her toward the entrance. “Call me if any developments occur with Luca,” she ordered, turning and pointing her comm. unit at Romelle. “I want to know the second anything happens to her.”

 

Romelle nodded eagerly. “Yes, ma’am!”

 

Allura paused. “…have you figured out what a ‘ma’am’ is yet either?”

 

Romelle shook her head. “No, ma’am! All I’ve discerned is that it’s used respectfully toward older figures of authority. Now, quit stalling for time and call the boy!” She shooed Allura back with a wave of her hand, and reached to close the doors. They slammed shut with an unceremonious hiss of air, and Allura blinked at them. Her gaze flickered down to the comm. unit in her hand, her insides squirming at the sight of Lance’s name on the screen. His identification photo was a blurry candid, his eyebrows arched high up on his forehead, his grin slanted with mischief, one eye closed in a wink; judging from the other half of the picture, Keith had just been subject to a very bad joke, and was reacting appropriately.  

 

Allura’s fingers tightened around the comm., and she moved her thumb over to press the green symbol beneath his name.

 

* * *

 

 “Hey, Lance..”

 

“Mm.”

 

“…you okay, man?”

 

A long, deep sigh answered the question. Lance rolled over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling of his room. “I think so,” he said, gazing up at the blank slate above him. No glow in the darks stars, no posters, no personal effects; the room contained little else besides the Spartan, utilitarian furniture every room came with.

 

Hunk’s heavy weight dipped the mattress as he gently sat near Lance’s feet, the bed-frame creaking. “You were crying, though,” he murmured; an observation, not an accusation.

 

Lance heaved another sigh, the deep breath concaving his chest. His ribcage peeked out from under the thin, clingy fabric of the undershirt he wore beneath his uniform jacket. “Yeah, I was,” he admitted. “Rejection never gets easier, buddy, no matter how many times it happens.”

 

Hunk’s frown deepened at the bleak statement. “I’m sorry, man,” he said miserably, leaning over and putting his elbows on his knees. He buried his face in his hands. “This is all my fault. I’m the one who pushed you to ask her out, I shouldn’t have interfered…”

 

The rumpled blanket shifted beneath them, and a warm hand landed on Hunk’s hunched shoulder. “Hunk, it’s okay,” Lance assured, scooting up to sit beside his friend. He offered the other a warm, sincere smile. “It’s not a big deal.”

 

“No, Lance, don’t downplay this!” Hunk protested. “It’s okay to be disappointed! It’s okay to be upset over it! You don’t have to downplay your feelings just for my sake!”

 

“No, Hunk, really!” Lance turned his friend by the shoulders, squeezing him firmly. “Listen, man. Look at me? I really am okay. I’m not upset about what happened, or even disappointed, really…”

 

Hunk’s eyes widened. “You’re.. not?” he asked. “But… I know you really liked her. A-and she shot you down, after I told you she wouldn’t! You’re not even a little upset?”

 

Lance smiled, shaking his head. “I’m not. Promise.” He removed his hands from Hunk’s shoulders and turned to swing his legs over the side of the bed, leaning back on his hands. “You never even told me she’d say yes, anyway. You don’t ever lie to me, even inadvertently.” His reassuring smile faded, and he let his head loll back on his shoulders, gazing up at the ceiling once again. “But, y’know, it’s weird. In a way, I’m… more okay than I thought I’d be?” He hummed thoughtfully, and reclined back against the bed, folding his hands on his stomach. “I think I’m… relieved, to tell you the truth.”

 

“That’s… an odd reaction to rejection.” Hunk leaned back on one hand, twisting at the waist to look back at Lance, concern written on his face. “How come? Do you have any idea..?”

 

Lance narrowed his eyes in concentration. “Well… how can I word this…” He closed his eyes and shook his head, unable to find the answers he sought. “I don’t know. All I can say is that… I feel like a weight’s been lifted off of me? If that makes sense?”

 

The sudden sound of a phone ringing cut off Hunk’s response. Lance sat up at the sound of the ancient song playing, eyes widening at the sound of it. “That’s Allura!” he exclaimed, scooting over to the edge of the bed once more. He gazed at the chair sitting in the corner of his room, where his comm. device vibrated harshly against the soft cushion.

 

“Why is she calling you…?” Hunk asked.

 

In lieu of answering, Lance rose from the bed and calmly walked over to the ringing device. He swiped it up, but froze when her contact picture appeared onscreen. It was a picture of them together – taken by Shiro, he recalled – each offering the camera a Vulcan salute, fingers pressed together appropriately. His insides squirmed excitedly, heart swelling at the sight of her shy, enthusiastic smile. Pausing to inhale deeply, Lance clenched his jaw and glanced over at Hunk. “Should I answer?” he asked, voice small.

 

Hunk hesitated, guilt pinching his features. “Maybe,” he said. “It could be important.”

 

Lance’s face hardened. “Right. It could be.” One last breath to steel his nerves, and Lance swiped his thumb across the green ‘accept’ button, just before the sixth ring could carry the call to voicemail. “Hey, Allura,” he said into the device, eyes darting over to Hunk. “What’s up?”

 

Hunk watched as Lance listened to her answer, wringing his hands nervously as Lance’s expression went carefully, diplomatically neutral, giving him no clues as to what she was saying. “No, it’s okay. What can I do for ya?” The blank façade cracked sooner than expected, and a blush crept over Lance’s brown cheeks. “Um..! O-of course it is!” Hunk must have let his smile slip, because Lance glared at him and turned away, walking over to the corner as if that would grant him some privacy. “But,” he began again, cupping his hand around his mouth to hush his voice. “If I can ask… what happened to ‘some other time’?” Hunk jumped off of the bed and jogged over, waving his arms excitedly. Lance waved at him, urging him to move back, and turned away to listen. Whatever she said made him freeze, and his blush darkened. “Oh…” he uttered, the syllable whispering off of his lips. Hunk appeared in front of him, desperately mouthing ‘what!’, and Lance shook out of his reverie, walking away from Hunk. “Y-yeah?” he said into the phone. “Of course you can! Um, it starts at 2000 hours, ‘cause we like to eat a little late. Do you, er, want me to come by and take you there? …Okay, I’ll send the directions to your comm., then.” An elated grin took over his face. “Awesome. It’s a date, then…?” He trailed off a little hesitantly, but Allura’s reply made his grin increase tenfold, and he whirled back around to Hunk, shooting him a thumbs up and nothing else. “Alright, great! Wonderful! I’ll see you later, then!” He pulled the phone away and uttered a shaky, stricken little sigh. “Bye.”

 

The second Lance ended the call, Hunk let out a screech. “What happened?!” he asked, grabbing Lance by the shoulders and shaking him. “Tell me!”

 

“She changed her mind!” Lance yelled back. “She’s coming to dinner tonight!”

 

Hunk screamed, and Lance joined in, jumping up and down as they squealed. “Dude, that’s awesome!” Hunk said, releasing Lance after a moment.

 

Lance collapsed on the bed, fingers tapping wildly on his comm. “I know!” he said, voice still pitched high with excitement. “She’s said she’s gonna get ready and come by, so I’ve gotta send her the directions.”

 

“Oh, this is so exciting!” Hunk pumped his fists. He froze, then glanced at Lance. “Wait, what time is it?”

 

Lance’s smile faded as his eyes zeroed in on the time in the top right corner of the comm. device. “It’s 1500,” he said quietly. “I… only have four hours to get ready!” He sped up his typing, nearly catching his fingers on fire. He hit send, and waited a moment; the message was stamped with ‘delivered’ beneath it, and Lance jumped up, throwing his phone carelessly over his shoulder as he zoomed over to his dresser. Hunk scrambled to save the phone from the ground as Lance yanked open his drawers, pulling out underwear and… nothing else. “I don’t have anything to wear!” he screeched, spinning around and grabbing handfuls of his hair. “All I have are uniform clothes..! _Hunk_!!”

 

Hunk leaped up from the ground, raising a triumphant fist. “I got you, bro!” he said. “Hunk will get you all pimped out, just you wait!” He adjusted Lance’s comm. in his hand, and unlocked it with ease, opening up the book of contacts and scrolling through to the K section. “But… it never hurts to have an outside opinion….”

 

* * *

 

 

Allura peered into the botany lab, twisting a strand of hair around her finger tight enough to cut off the circulation. She lingered near the entrance, shifting her weight anxiously.

 

“Hey, Allura – what are you doing?”

 

Allura yelped, jumping as a hand landed on her shoulder. Nadia Rizavi pulled her hand back defensively, showing that her empty palms were free of any weapons. “Sorry!” she apologized, watching Allura clutch at her chest and sigh. “Didn’t mean to startle you like that!”

 

“No, it’s quite alright, Rizavi.” Allura lowered her hand from her chest and folded it with its twin. “I was just… distracted.”

 

Rizavi tilted her head, dark ponytail swishing with the movement. “Yeah, you did seem like you had something on your mind,” she mused, crossing her arms and putting a hand on her chin. “What were you thinking about? And why were you doing it outside the botany lab?”

 

“I was looking for Pidge,” Allura explained, tapping her fingertips together. “Or, was thinking about looking for her.” She lowered her eyes from Rizavi’s, examining her fingernails for nonexistent dirt beneath them.

 

Rizavi nodded. “Last time I saw her, she was hanging out with her mom. So they’re probably in there!” Allura bobbed her head, and Rizavi paused, pursing her lips. “You… did look in there, didn’t you?”

 

“I did. She’s in there.”

 

“Then… why are you still out here?”

 

Silence stretched on between them, nothing but the quiet hum of the ship’s machinery filling the gap. Rizavi said, “Oh, it has something to do with why you’re looking for her, doesn’t it?”

 

Allura nodded hesitantly. “I’ve scheduled a… rendezvous with a colleague later on this evening, and I’m at a loss as to where to obtain proper vestments for the purpose of courting.” A blush crawled onto her dark cheeks at Rizavi’s blank expression. “I have a… date, I think it’s called.”

 

Rizavi’s eyes lit up at the simpler explanation. “Oh! You have a _date_?!” she cooed, reaching up to grab Allura by the shoulders. “Oh my gosh, with who?”

 

Allura blushed darker. “Lance.”

 

“You have a date… with _Lance_?” A third voice spoke up from the doorway of the botany lab, and both Allura and Rizavi turned to see a quizzical-faced Pidge standing in the entrance, a PADD in hand.

 

“Yes, tonight at 2000,” Allura said haltingly. The inflection on Pidge’s voice when she said Lance’s name seemed odd, like she thought it was hard to believe, but Allura elected to ignore it. “In case you couldn’t guess, I’m… not exactly acquainted with Earth culture yet. On Altea, courting vestments tended to be a little… extreme. Earth seems much less… radical, so I’m at a loss as to what I should wear.”

 

Pidge quirked an eyebrow. “And, if I overheard correctly, you… wanted to ask me?”

 

Someone from within the botany lab cackled. “Katie? Fashion?! That’s a good one!”

 

Pidge scowled. “Shut up, Mom! I’m perfectly fashionable!”

 

Rizavi gasped, eyes practically twinkling. “I know just who to ask!” she said, clenching her hands into excited fists. “Ina is the perfect person for this – she’s the most stylish person I know!”

 

Pidge frowned, raising an eyebrow skeptically. “Ina – as in Ina Liefsdottir?”

 

Rizavi nodded eagerly, hands on her hips. “The very same!”

 

“The most stylish person you know?” Pidge asked, her eyebrow continuing to ascend on her forehead.

 

“Absolutely! She’s extremely analytical. She could probably put together the perfect date night outfit – or, vestments, if you would – by just looking at a shelf of stuff!” Rizavi nodded confidently. “She always looks so well put-together, by Earth standards. She’d be the perfect candidate for this job!”

 

Pidge adjusted her glasses. “Maybe by your standards…” she muttered. “You wear tracksuits unironically…”

 

Rizavi angrily whirled on Pidge. “What was that?!”

 

“I said, go get her then!” Pidge yelled back. “Allura needs to get ready! It’s almost 1600! She’s got only four hours to find an outfit and get ready!”

 

Rizavi reached into the loose pocket of her neon green shorts and dialed Liefdottir’s number at the speed of light. “Ina!” she yelled into the comm., “I need your help, stat! Meet me at the outlet mall in T-minus twenty – nay, fifteen minutes! We need your immense intellect and analytical powers!” She shoved her comm. back into her pocket and grabbed Allura and Pidge, dragging them to the turbolift at the end of the hallway. “I’ll have Pidge back in 2 hours, Mrs. Holt!!” she called back to the botany lab, shoving the girls into the lift. The doors shut, whisking them up to the main floor, oblivious to Mrs. Holt’s dismissive ‘okay, have fun’ in their wake.

 

Twenty minutes later, Allura found herself climbing out of an AW-Cruiser, parked haphazardly in the parking spot Rizavi had stalked for nearly 10 minutes, and staring at the entrance of the outlet mall grounds. It was an outside affair, more like a market or even a swap meet; vendors of all specialties called out for others to view their tents, miniature stores with plain tarps hanging from wooden rafters. Species of all kinds, predominantly humans but others too, mingled together into one large crowd.

 

“C’mon, girls!” Allura blinked herself out of her reverie, to see Rizavi bounding ahead, waving back to her and Pidge. “Let’s find Ina!”

 

“It’s only been fifteen minutes, but I’m already so worn out,” Pidge paused to declare before trudging after Rizavi, who found Liefsdottir near a fountain near the entrance. “C’mon, Allura.”

 

Liefsdottir, wrapped up in a lingering hug from Rizavi, glanced up at them as they approached. “Salutations, Princess Allura. Nadia informed me that you required some assistance in obtaining appropriate clothes for a date with your acquaintance and teammate, tactical sharpshooter Lance McClain, Red Paladin of Voltron?”

 

“We know what he does, thanks.” Pidge folded her arms. “Now, let’s get down to business and plan our course of attack.” She turned to face the slightly overwhelmed Altean. “Allura, what is the context of the date? Is it just you and Lance? Where is it gonna be? What will the conditions be like?”

 

Allura answered, “No, I’m attending dinner with his family tonight.”

 

Pidge quirked her eyebrow. “He jumped right to introducing you to the family? That’s unusual, but not unheard of.”

 

“So, it’s a casual family dinner.” Rizavi nodded at her own observation. “Nothing too skanky, then.”

 

Allura tilted her head. “What does ‘skanky’ mean?”

 

“Don’t worry about it, Allura.” Pidge sliced a hand across her throat, shaking her head at Rizavi, and gently ushered Allura along. “Let’s head to the strip and see what stores we have to work with.”

 

* * *

 

“ _What_ is the big _deal_?”

 

Lance gasped, putting a shocked hand on his chest. “The big _deal_ , _Keith_ ,” he snapped, putting one hand on his hip and jabbing his companion in the chest with the other, “is that _none_ of these stores offer stuff in my style!”

 

Keith looked down at the finger poking his chest, then redirected his unimpressed gaze back to Lance. “And what exactly would that be?” he asked flatly. “Ridiculous and over the top?”

 

Lance gasped again. “Ridiculous? _Over the top_?!” He crossed his arms and jerked his chin up into the air. “Coming from the man who thinks that a cropped jacket and combat boots over jeggings are the peak of fashion? Coming from the man who wore a fanny pack for his entire adolescence?!”

 

“Hey, don’t diss the fanny pack,” Keith protested. “It looked good and could carry a bunch of snacks without anybody noticing. Peak fashion is utilitarianism! You’re just blind to the truth!”

 

“Guys, let’s focus here!” Hunk gently pushed them apart, from where they stood nose to nose. He sheepishly looked around the store, where there was no music playing over the intercom; the few other people in the store, mostly guys around their age, glanced at them. He turned to Lance, keeping a hand on his shoulders, trusting Keith to handle himself. “Lance, don’t get sidetracked. As nice as it is to see you both acting like friends, we’re on a time sensitive mission, remember? You need to get to your mom’s house by 1800 hours, at least!”

 

“Why so early?” Keith asked. “That’s two hours early!”

 

Lance gave him a somewhat flat look. “We like to talk,” he explained. “A lot.”

 

Keith shrugged with one shoulder. “Sure,” he said. “Okay, so if you need to be there two hours early, then you only have an hour and a half to find something you like. So why are you standing around picking fights with me in the middle of stores?”

 

“Because!” Lance whined. “I’m frustrated that nothing I find looks good enough!”

 

“Lower your standards, then!” Keith stepped around Hunk and addressed Lance directly, face set in a grim frown. “Look, Lance – you don’t have to look like a million bucks to look good. Confidence is the most attractive thing to most people. So find something – anything – that you like, and own it. That’s what will make you look good, not the most expensive thing in this place.” His eyes softened as their gazes held, a brief silence encapsulating them. “Have some faith in yourself. You’re great, there’s a reason why Allura said yes.” 

 

Lance blinked slowly, taken aback by the sincerity. His eyebrows furrowed as he recognized something else, hard pressure placed behind the words, a dark undertone lingering behind the speech like a shadow. “Keith…”

 

Keith jerked his gaze away from Lance’s, his ears turning red as he turned away and crossed his arms tightly. “What?” he snapped. “Don’t look at me like that.”

 

Lance coaxed his lips into a soft, smiling curve. “What do you mean?” he teased, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Like what?”

 

Keith clenched his jaw. “Like _that_ ,” he spat.

 

“Like _what_?” Lance repeated, flashing him a toothy grin. “This? It’s called _smiling_ , Keith, maybe you should try it sometime!”

 

Keith let his nostrils flare as he exhaled, and Lance could almost see the steam coming from his ears. He erupted into laughter as Keith spun on his heel and stomped over to another section, making it a point to examine a shelf of different colored pairs of pants. “Classic Keith,” Lance chuckled, turning to return to the last section.

 

Hunk glanced over at him as he approached. “I’m happy to see you guys acting like friends again,” he said, lowering his voice a little. “I was worried about you two.”

 

Metal scraped together as Lance skimmed through a rack of shirts, pushing the hangers to the side as he searched. “Worried?” he asked innocently. “What do you mean?”

 

“After he came back and helped us fight You-Know-Who,” Hunk continued, wincing a little as a muscle in Lance’s cheek twitched. “You guys were kind of… I dunno, distant. You were so close before he left, I’d started to worry about him taking over my position as your best friend.”

 

“Hunk, that’s ridiculous! No one could ever replace you as my BFF.” Lance pulled a short sleeved button-up off of the rack and held it up to his chest, aligning it to where it would sit on his body. “What do you think of this?”

 

“The style of the shirt is nice, but that shade of yellow doesn’t do much for your complexion? Gold would look best with your skin tone, something vivid but dark enough to draw out your beautiful skin. A pastel like that would just look underwhelming. Plus, what is that, 100% cotton? Yeah, it wouldn’t survive the first wash.” Hunk watched Lance reluctantly nod and replace the shirt on the rack, continuing the search. He pressed his lips together. “And I know that he couldn’t replace me as your BFF, but maybe…?”

 

“Maybe _what_?” Lance asked, that dangerous edge in his tone growing sharper. He pulled a green long sleeved pullover off of the rack and held it against his chest. “Maybe this with a button up beneath? That’s still a good look, right? I wore that one all of my dates back in the academy years.”

 

Hunk rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “The green is nice, but what’s with the shoulder pads? How do you even combine cable knit and shoulder pads and think it’s a good idea?”

 

Lance pulled it away to observe for himself. “It has those? Man, I kinda liked how this one looked.” He replaced it, and quickly pulled out a simple t-shirt before Hunk could elaborate. “Maybe just keep it simple with a T-shirt and jeans? This is my mom’s house, after all, nothing too fancy or else it won’t live through the cat’s shedding or somebody spilling something.”

 

Hunk nodded. “Plus, it is her favorite color.” He squinted at the salmon-colored shirt, then glanced at Lance. “But then again, it is your first date. Maybe cleaning up a little is a good idea.”

 

With a groan, Lance put the t-shirt back on the rack. “Hunk, I’ll never find anything for this date. I usually wear jeans with holes in the knees and a hoodie with no shirt on underneath to these things! What was I thinking, inviting a beautiful alien princess to a gathering where I still sit at the kids’ table?!”

 

“Lance, calm down, I can hear your stress from across the store. The security guard is eyeing you like you’re bad news.” Keith appeared on the other side of Hunk, some articles draped over his arm. “What are you getting worked up over now?”

 

“The fact that you managed to find yourself stuff before I did!” Lance bemoaned, gesturing to Keith’s clothes-laden arm. “I thought you said you hated shopping!”

 

Keith’s mouth snapped shut, and his lips pressed into a thin, neutral line. “This isn’t for me,” he said, “it’s for you.” He gestured for Lance to take the items, holding his arm out. “Stuff I thought you’d like, based on what I’ve seen you wear before.” He shifted a little uncomfortably when Lance just stared blankly at him. “What?”

 

Lance blinked at the hostile question, giving his head a small shake. “Nothing,” he said, reaching out to remove the top item off of Keith’s arm pile. He held out a pair of black chinos, a smile dawning on his face at the look of them, at the nice brown belt looped around the waist. “I just didn’t expect you to look for stuff for me, is all. How do you even know my sizes?”

 

Keith shrugged with one shoulder. “I asked your mom,” he admitted. “I figured I’d be roped into hunting for your outfit, so I prepared in advance.”

 

“You asked my –?” Lance snapped his mouth shut. “You know what? Never mind.” He reached for the next item, a pale blue button-up, and held them adjacent to each other. Hunk picked the next item up off of Keith’s arm, a dark blue sweater, and whistled. “Wow, Kogane. So you _do_ know how to piece together a look! I half-expected you to have nothing but circa-2009 Gerard Way!”

 

“Shut up, Lance.” Keith stepped forward and shoved his items into Lance’s arms, folding his own once they were empty. “Try them on, you’ve only got a half-hour left.”

 

In lieu of a snappy comeback, Lance elected to merely scramble off to the changing room. Hunk watched him go, crossing his arms. He turned to Keith as the door clicked shut. “Dude.”

 

Keith raised his eyebrow. “Yeah?”

 

Hunk stared blankly at him. A smile wormed onto his face, stretching his cheeks back. “That was super nice of you, dude.”

 

Keith stiffened, but he managed to contain his reaction to a nonchalant shrug. “I have my moments.”

 

Hunk stared at the side of his face, smile softening. “Classic Keith…” he mused, watching Keith’s jaw clench at his comment.

 

* * *

 

 “Veronica!” Rizavi called out, lifting her arm up into the air and waving it. “Hey, over here!”

 

The older woman looked up at the sound of her name, looking around in confusion. When she spotted Rizavi, her eyes brightened with familiarity, and she made her way over to their group, the silky blouse she’d been looking at draped over her arm. “Good afternoon, cadets,” she said, nodding at Rizavi and Liefsdottir. “What are you all doing here? I didn’t know you four hung out.” Her eyes trailed over to Allura, and her eyebrows pulled together a little. “Aren’t you supposed to be resting, Princess?”  

 

Allura felt her cheeks grow warm under Lance’s sister’s inquisitive gaze. “I am looking to obtain an outfit for what you call a ‘date’ tonight.”

 

“With your brother!” Rizavi added, leaning around Allura to give Veronica a cheeky wink.

 

“With my brother..? Oh, you mean Lance? Little baby Lancey-Wancey _finally_ asked you out?!” Veronica’s grin faded, and she clicked her tongue, shifting her weight and folding her arms. The bag on her wrist swung with the movement, bumping into her hip. “Oh, on family dinner night, too. _Mama_ won’t be happy with him at all.”

 

Allura steepled her fingertips, tapping them together. “Actually, he… asked me to accompany him to your family dinner tonight.”

 

Veronica blinked, a toothy grin crawling onto her face. “Oh, _really_?” she asked, stretching the word out. The quirk of her eyebrows only added a layer to the inflection she put upon it, and for some reason Allura found herself blushing. “That’s interesting. Lance has never brought a girl home before, much less on their first date, so this is bound to yield some interesting results.” The glint in her eye shifted, and her grin took on a malicious edge. “Whatever ‘cool guy’ reputation he’s built up with you will be destroyed once you sit at our dinner table. Mark my words, Princess.”

 

“I’m looking forward to it. I think?” Allura added, tilting her head.

 

Veronica winked at her. “You’ll have fun, I guarantee it.” She rolled her shoulders and straightened, playfulness fading away. “Now, back to business. Are you looking for a date night outfit, too? Is that why you’re not back at the Atlas?”

 

Allura nodded and sheepishly rubbed her arm. “The only articles of clothing I own are my armor, my official uniform and my sleepwear,” she admitted.

 

Veronica’s eyes grew soft, and she stepped forward to pat Allura’s shoulder. “I understand. You guys –you paladins of Voltron, I mean – you’re _always_ busy. You don’t have time to wear anything else, I bet. When Lance called me earlier, he was panicking because he didn’t have anything to wear either.” She let her hand fall and crossed her arms again, the bag swinging from her wrist. “Make any progress?”

 

“I have a few items picked out, but I have yet to settle on one.” Allura shifted her weight nervously, looking down at the soft pink fabric in her hands. “Nothing feels suitable enough, but time is running out, and I have not even found shoes or accessories, yet…” 

 

Veronica gave her a reassuring smile. “If it helps you feel any better, I know for a _fact_ that Lance is having the same problem as you. He hasn’t been this excited in a long time.”

 

Allura gave the older woman a soft smile. “I wasn’t aware that he… felt that way.”

 

“You probably aren’t aware of a lot of things about Lance. He’s a great actor.” Veronica walked over to the bench were the other girls sat, and paused to let Pidge scoot over before sitting down, crossing her long legs and leaning back on her hand. “So, what do you have so far?” She nodded as Allura showed her the selection, humming thoughtfully as she studied each item. “Try them on, then! It might completely change your perspective.”

 

Inside the changing room, Allura tried on several of her items. The first dress was a simple black garment, a pleated skirt with lacy trim, but half of the top half appeared to be missing; her right arm was entirely bare, and it just felt silly to wear just one sleeve when two were perfectly fine. The next dress was a much shorter affair, the hem ending at mid-thigh, and the neckline plunged deep enough for Allura to feel exposed, even in the private dressing room. The sleeves – two of them, this time – were the most modest part about it. The color of it, however, a soft dreamy lavender, was charming enough for Allura to feel bad about as she placing it on the rejection rack. The third outfit was not a dress, but a blouse and a skirt pair: a pale pink top with half of the back cut out, and a pale blue skirt that clung to curves Allura didn’t appreciate being clung to. She eyed her reflection in frustration, twisting and turning as she tried on several more outfits, willing herself to just _like_ one of them and get on with the rest of the evening.

 

Just before she gave up, the last item – a pink dress – made her pause. Putting her items back down, Allura held the dress up against herself, twisting and turning as she reconsidered.

 

Pidge glanced toward the dressing room door. “She’s taking quite a while,” she remarked, noting the time.

 

“These things take time. The fact that she’s nervous doesn’t help.” Veronica scrolled through the social media notifications on her comm. device, shooting Lance an idle picture of her foot bouncing in mid-air. The picture he replied with made a grin crawl onto her face, and she leaned over to show Pidge. “Look at my baby brother, all handsome and grown up!” Her grin darkened, and her chuckle could only be described as _scheming_. “I cannot _wait_ to demolish his reputation with our embarrassing stories. It’ll be like Christmas and my birthday, all in the same night!!”

 

Pidge studied the picture for a moment. As the timer ran out, bringing her back to Veronica’s messages, she snapped out of some sort of reverie. “So, no way to hear those embarrassing stories, then?” she asked helplessly. “There’s no exception for people who are outside of the family but mind-meld with him on a semi-regular basis?”

 

Veronica shook her head, shooting Lance a selfie of them all on the bench. Rizavi and Liefsdottir, as if they had some sort of keen selfie sense, paused their avid conversation about skydiving to shoot the camera silly looks. “Sorry, Pidge,” she said, not sounding apologetic in the least as she added a caption to the picture and sent it off. “Family and intended family only, I’m afraid.”

 

A click caught their attention, and the four ladies looked up as the door to the changing room slowly opened.

 

Rizavi jumped up, squealing excitedly. “Oh my gosh! You found something!” she exclaimed, rushing forward. “You look so pretty, oh my _gosh_!!”

 

Allura blushed the same soft pink as her dress, pulling her silvery hair over one shoulder to anxiously fiddle with the curled ends as Rizavi fawned over her dress, admiring the sheer chiffon back, the soft hem of the knee-length skirt, the folds that swayed whenever Allura shifted. “Thank you, Rizavi. I just cannot believe how many things that I picked out were so… ridiculous, and over the top. What is the purpose of cutting holes in perfectly fine clothing?”

 

Veronica shrugged. “Who knows, girl?”

 

Liefsdottir chimed in, “Actually, modern trends of distressed clothing originate from the grunge movement of the late 1990s, and to a lesser extent, the punk movement of the 1970s. Ripped jeans became popular when they became a symbol of a carefree, laid-back look. They are meant to signify casualness and –“

 

“Liefsdottir,” Pidge deadpanned. “Liefsdottir knows, girl.”

 

Allura blinked at Liefsdottir. “That… is actually fascinating. Do you know any more about human fashion trends and their history?”

 

Liefsdottir offered her a tiny smile. “I do. Would you care to discuss them more at a later date?”

 

“I would!” Allura leaned closer to Rizavi. “I suppose you were right about Liefsdottir being the most stylish person you know. I apologize for having doubted you.”

 

Rizavi puffed out her chest. “It’s alright! Now, come with me, fair Princess…” She grabbed Allura’s hands and guided her across the store, and guided her down onto a stool with a mirror around the bottom. The twinkle in her eye was mischievous. “We have to find you some shoes to go with that dress!”

 

* * *

 

“Patience…”

 

Shiro poked his tongue out of his mouth, pressing it between his lips as he strained.

 

“Yields….”

 

His fingers wiggled, the tips tantalizingly close to the object of his desires.

 

“Focuuuus...!”

 

A loud bang shattered his concentration, and he let out a high-pitched yelp as the door to his apartment slammed shut. The footsteps grew louder as they traveled closer to his spot in the lounge, and Shiro recognized the purposeful shift of weight on them, near silent treads made heavy with intent. “Keith, is that you?!” he called, despite already knowing the answer.

 

“Who else would it be, the Tooth Fairy?” Keith asked gruffly, stopping to toe off his shoes. He paused, face going blank as he took in the scene before him. “…what are you _doing_?” His eyes darted over to the far side of the room. “And why is your arm all the way over _there_..?”

 

Shiro pressed his lips together. “I may or may not have wanted an apple from the kitchen but didn’t want to get up.”

 

Keith blinked. Then, he shook his head, and tossed his keys onto the counter. He let them slide almost to the edge, his mood too dark to care. “You’re getting lazy in your old age,” he muttered, continuing on his way to the conjoined kitchen area. He grabbed a green apple from the bowl on the island and tossed it to Shiro before heading to the fridge. “What happened to ‘you’ll ruin your appetite if you have a snack, Keith!’?”

 

Shiro caught the apple with his human hand and bit into it, electing to ignore the fairly decent yet still insulting imitation Keith did of him. Like a wayward puppy called by a whistle, his replacement arm zipped back over to him, gliding back into place at his side. “Oh, believe me, a tiny apple is not going to ruin my appetite,” he said through a mouthful of fruit. Pausing to swallow and wipe the juice off of his chin, he continued, “I think I forgot to eat last night, so I’m plenty hungry.”

 

“You’re going to kill yourself that way.” Keith slammed the fridge door shut, ignoring the dangerous glass rattles that came from within. “I’m going to start dragging you to dinner from now on.”

 

Shiro took another bite of his apple, watching Keith walk around the couch and collapse in the recliner. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, watching Keith lean forward to wedge the top off of the bottle and throw it in an ashtray filled with other caps. “You seem like you’re in a bad mood.”

 

Keith tilted the bottle back and downed half of it in one go. “I just got back from helping Lance choose his outfit for his date with Allura tonight,” he muttered darkly, resting the bottle on his knee.

 

Shiro’s face fell. “How did it go..?” he asked quietly.

 

A dry smile overtook Keith’s features. “It went great,” he answered bitterly. “Just great.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

> _Knock, knock, knock._

Allura let her hand fall from where she’d rapped it against the door and folded it at her lap, standing proudly on the porch step. She heard a voice, deeper and masculine, shout from within the house in a language that she recognized from the way Lance swore – Spanish, then, she corrected. It baffled her, just a little, that humans couldn’t (or, maybe, just _wouldn’t_ ) decide on a universal language. For a social species that thrived on communication with others, they sure enjoyed making things complex.

 

The door swung open with a click of the knob, and in the doorframe appeared an older human man: Lance’s father. Mr. McClain was well into his mid-60s, but he still moved with the grace and ease of a youth, despite the round of his midsection and the lack of hair. “Ah, the guest of honor has finally arrived!” Mr. McClain announced in his thick accent, spreading his arms to refer to Allura on the porch step. He seemed to change gears halfway through a hug, and offered his hand instead. “It is an honor, Princess Allura! My son has told us so much about you.”

 

Allura flushed and clasped their hands together. His hands were rough with age and hard work. “The honor is all mine, ma’am,” she said, returning his firm shake. “Thank you for inviting me into your home.”

 

“Oh, no, my son did that, not me.” The twinkle in Mr. McClain’s eyes disappeared for a moment. “Eh… did you just call me ‘ma’am’..?”

 

“Yes! Is that not a human term of respect..?” Allura asked, her smile fading.

 

Mr. McClain blinked, a smile threatening to twitch onto his face. “Y-yes, it is, I am just… unused to being called that.” He coughed into his fist and stepped back into the foyer, pushing the door open wider so she could enter. “Where are my manners? Come in, princess! Do you want anything to drink? Would you like to sit down? Oh – first things first, I will let my son know that you are here.”

 

“Thank you, ma’am.” Allura bowed her head.

 

Mr. McClain turned away from the front door, in order to hide the suspicious twitch of his mustache, and placed a hand on the staircase banister as he sucked in the necessary breath to summon his youngest children.

 

* * *

 

 “ _Lance! Your pretty girlfriend is here!_ ”

 

Lance jolted at the call, announced to the entire house. “Just a second!” he yelled back in English, turning back to face the mirror. He smoothed his hair back for the hundredth time, nervously eyeing the swoop of his bangs, slicked back by gel. His eyes drifted down to his outfit, where he anxiously toyed with the stiff blue collar of his shirt and tugged at his cuffs, then brushed off his nice black jeans. He leaned forward to inspect his face, fresh and clean, still vaguely tingling with the sensation of a charcoal strip.

 

A snort of derision came from the bed. “Holy crow _, can you chill out_? _Your face looks fine, bro_.”

 

Lance glared at the corner of the mirror where the voice came from. “ _I legally can’t_ ,” he replied in reference to the first question. He leaned back toward the mirror and zeroed in on a spot that appeared to look perfectly fine. “ _And no, I think I spy a blackhead! On my date night, too! Like, literally how dare_..?”

 

Rachel sighed as Lance muttered curses, swinging her legs over the side of his bed. “Lance,” she said, glancing toward the door. “ _Get your butt downstairs before_ Papi _talks your girlfriend’s ear off. Does the princess even understand English, much less a mix of that and another language_?”

 

Lance stiffened at the realization that his father’s voice was loud enough to be heard from upstairs. “Oh, quiznak,” he snapped, shooting up from the vanity chair and racing toward the door.

 

Rachel shook her head as he ran past her. “ _I still don’t think that’s an actual word_ ,” she commented idly, hiding her hands in her pockets as she followed her twin downstairs.

 

Lance skidded to a stop at the top of the stairs, nearly toppling over at the sudden stop. The sight at the bottom of the door made his breath catch in his throat, and his knees went weak. He grabbed the banister for support and gulped around the sudden lump in his throat.

 

Allura, as if she sensed his presence, looked up from where she was patiently nodding along to whatever his father was rambling on about. Her eyes lit up, and she lifted her hand to wave up at him. “Good evening, Lance!” she called, the three bracelets on her wrist jingling together as they slid down her arm.

 

Lance’s father turned to glance up at his youngest son, still paralyzed on the staircase. “Nice of you to join us,” he teased in his accented English. “How come I was the one to greet your lovely lady friend and not yourself?”

 

Lance didn’t recall the rest of his journey down the stairs, just finding himself right in front of Allura. “I was just talking to Rachel, _Dad_ ,” he said, shooting his father a warning look as the princess flushed. “She was helping me get ready.”

 

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Rachel said, feet thumping as she clomped down the steps. “Nice to meet you at last, Allura.”

 

Lance elbowed her none-too-subtly in the side. “ _Princess_ Allura, excuse you.”

 

Rachel nudged him back, harder than he did. “Sorry, _Princess_. With the way my brother talks about you, I forget you’re just a princess and not a literal _goddess_ – _ow_! Lance!! _Ay, that hurt, stupid_!” 

 

Allura flushed and reached out to gently touch Lance on the arm. “Please, you don’t have to defer to me by my official title. Tonight, I’m simply Allura.” She gazed up at him through her eyelashes, smiling softly.

 

Lance softened at her warm smile, returning it with a fond expression. “Of course, Allura.” He cleared his throat and ignored Rachel’s mutterings on purpose as she passed. “You, uh… you look really nice tonight. Very beautiful.”

 

“Thank you, Lance! I was hoping I didn’t look too ‘skanky’.”

 

Lance blinked in disbelief. “Uh… n-no, you look great. Not skanky at all.”

 

“Oh, good. I am glad I succeeded.” Allura gave him a quick once-over, smiling softly. “You look nice, too.”

 

Lance rubbed his neck bashfully, glancing down at himself. “You think so?” he asked, tugging at the tucked-in hem of his blue shirt. The shade of it brought out the color of his eyes, making them pop against the darker tones of his skin and hair. “I didn’t know how formal this was supposed to be, but nothing’s fancier than a shirt that’s tucked in.”

 

Allura hid her smirk. “For you, I suppose that’s true.”

 

Lance rolled with the teasing, lips pulling back to reveal his toothy grin. “Very funny. Now, let’s get down to business. I would like to introduce you to the rest of my family.” He put a hand on her shoulder and regarded her very seriously. “Brace yourself, there’s a lot of names.”

 

Allura nodded. “I’m always ready.”

 

Lance turned to walk into the living room, his arm winding around Allura to guide her in the same direction. “We’ll start from right to left,” he said, gesturing from one side of the room to the other. “Allura, you’ve obviously already met Veronica. Say hi, Ronnie!”

 

“Don’t call me that,” Veronica deadpanned. “Lancito.” Her face changed, her malicious frown brightening into a warm, friendly grin. “It’s nice to see you here, Allura. Glad you could come. You look beautiful.”

 

Allura gave Lance a curious look. “Lancito?” she repeated.

 

“Don’t worry about it.” Lance rolled his eyes, and pointed to the other girl now sitting next to Veronica, the one who had come downstairs after him. “Next to her is my sister, Rachel. You’ve seen her, too. Obviously.”

 

Allura tilted her head. “She looks like you, but slightly… erm….”

 

Lance nodded as she trailed off. “We’re fraternal twins, Rachel and me.”

 

“He got the looks and charm. I got the rest.” Rachel winked at Allura. “Nice to meet you.”

 

“Fraternal… twins…? I’ve never heard of such a concept.”

 

“We were two different eggs in the same womb, or something like that.”

 

“Human beings come from eggs?!”

 

“ _Ay_ , Rachel, stop hogging the attention and let Lance introduce us already!” A bigger boy leaned heavily against Rachel, his limp wrist draped across his forehead. Rachel let out a modified curse – modified, meaning an older man sitting on the couch, simply intoned, ‘hey, language’ – and tried to shove him off, with no small effort.

 

Lance rolled his eyes at the complaint. “The drama queen of the family is Marco, the one in the middle.”

 

“Drama queen?!” Marco spat. “ _Me_? Don’t believe him, pretty lady, Lance is the most dramatic person in this room! That’s the only thing he’s got me beat at!” He grunted as Rachel shoved him off and leaned against him as vengeance.

 

“And _I’ve_ got him beat at that!” Rachel chimed in again, standing from her spot on the L-shaped sofa.

 

Lance smacked his forehead. “Next is the oldest brother Luis,” he said flatly, extending an arm out to the people gathered on the loveseat against the wall. The man raised his hand, the other arm wrapped around a light-skinned woman leaning into his side. “That’s his wife, Lisa, who’s also my super cool sister-in-law.” The woman waved at Allura, eyes twinkling from across the room. “On the ground are my favorite family members, Sylvio and Nadia.”

 

Allura’s eyes softened at the sight of the younger ones. “Those are the children you hugged when we returned to the Garrison,” she stated.

 

Lance nodded, his own gaze growing a little distant at the memory. “They are.” He broke away from Allura’s side and kneeled down and waved them over. “Nadi, Sylvio, come say hi!”

 

Nadia moved first, running carelessly into Lance’s awaiting arms. Lance grunted as he hauled her up off the ground, supporting her as she wrapped her limbs around his neck with the comfortable, practiced ease of one who’s done it many times before. “Introduce yourself, _chiquita_ ,” Lance said, tapping the point of his niece’s nose. Nadia, too, shared the same nose shape as everyone in the room did: long and turned up at the end. “Say, ‘Hello, Princess, my name is Nadia, and I think you are veeery beautiful!’”

 

Nadia giggled, revealing two gaps in her teeth. “ _Hola, Princesa_!”

 

“Nope, wrong language, silly!” Lance glanced back over, jerking his head toward Allura. “Sylvio, come over and show her how it’s done.”

 

Sylvio, from a first impression, seemed much more subdued than his energetic little sister. He walked forward where Nadia ran, coming to a stop in front of Allura. “H-hello, Princess Allura,” he stammered, cheeks turning pink as he offered his hand out. “My name is Sylvio, a-and I think you’re veeery beautiful!”

 

Allura smiled, her heart swelling at the maturity. She bent down and reached out, engulfing Sylvio’s smaller hand in both of her own. “It’s quite nice to meet you, Sylvio. I’m honored.”

 

Sylvio’s cheeks darkened even further. Lance nudged him with his knee. “The honor is yours, _hermanito_. Say it. Kiss her hand, tell her a joke, wink a little. Use that charm!” 

 

“Lance, don’t pressure him.” Allura chuckled and straightened, pausing to smooth out her dress. She offered Sylvio one last kind smile then returned her attention to Lance. She opened her mouth to continue, but a voice from the next room interrupted her.

 

“ _La comida está lista! Nadia, pon la mesa, Sylvio, prepara las bebidas!”_ A plump woman walked in from the kitchen, rubbing her hands with a blue towel. Nadia and Sylvio brushed past her; the clink of silverware and the crush of ice falling into glasses came from within. “Oh!” she cried out, spotting Allura almost instantly. She coughed into her hand and switched to the common language – English, Allura recalled – her accent permeating the words. “Lance, is this your princess friend? Why didn’t you tell me she arrived?”  

 

“Yes, Ma.” Lance walked toward her, putting his arm around her shoulders. Lance was taller than his mother by a head and then some, and their skin colors differentiated, with hers being lighter and smooth while Lance inherited his father’s darker, freckle-dotted skin. However, their similarities were striking: their wide smiles, the cheerful squint of their eyes, the high arch of their brows; the open, trusting way they both regarded Allura, and their matching eye colors. “I was just introducing her to everyone else before I got to you.”

 

“Saving the best for last, eh? Smart boy, my Lancito.” She reached up to pinch his cheek, giving it a gentle pat before turning back to Allura. She extended her hand to the Altean, smiling warmly. “Welcome, Princess Allura. Thank you for joining us tonight!”

 

“Thank you for having me, ma’am.” Allura returned the handshake, letting Mrs. McClain envelope her hand with both of her own.

 

“Oh, so polite." Mrs. McClain smiled, and put her hands on her blushing cheeks. "Call me Rosa, dear! You are my Lance’s family, so you are mine by extension.” Rosa dropped Allura’s hand and put her hands on her hips, turning to the rest of her family. “Did you all turn deaf? I said, dinner is ready!”

 

Rachel and Marco leaped up from their spot on the sofa in unison, elbowing each other as they raced into the kitchen. Luis paused to offer Lisa his hand and help her rise; Veronica brushed past Allura, offering the hint of a smile as she inclined her head toward the kitchen. “I hope you like rice,” she said. “Because if you’re going to be an official McClain, then you have to.”

 

* * *

 

 “…so then, Marco convinced him to drink the dirt water by saying that it was chocolate milk! Lance cried like a baby when he realized that it definitely wasn’t chocolate milk, and he tattled on us. We were grounded for days!”

 

Allura burst into laughter, bringing her mouth up to cover her mouth. “Oh my!” she giggled, covering her chest with the other hand. With a sigh, she settled down a little, dropping her hands into her lap.

 

Lance shook his head, crossing his arms tightly. “Having this many siblings is a blessing and a curse,” he sighed. “Especially when you’re the youngest.” 

 

“Lance has always been the baby of the family,” Luis explained.

 

“Yeah!” Rachel piped up from the small table behind them. “I was born three minutes before him, so that’s definitely his rightful title.”

 

“He’s been the baby in more ways than one,” Marco snickered. “He’s never brought a girl home before. It took him bringing you here to graduate him to the adult table!”

 

“For your information, I sit with Sylvio and Nadia by _choice_ ,” Lance spat, jabbing his finger down on the table to emphasize his point. “ _Not_ because I’m the baby, and not because I brought a date.”  

 

“Sure, and I’m the Queen of England.” Marco rolled his eyes and took a swig of his drink.

 

“Hey, speaking of dates…” Veronica swirled her drink around in her glass, eyebrows cocked. Her eyes slid lazily over to Lance, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “…how about you put in a good word for me with that long-haired friend of yours, hm?”

 

“What?” Lance’s eyes boggled. “ _Keith_?! No, no, no, no. Haha, no way. Nuh-uh, not gonna happen!”

 

 Veronica curled her lip. “Keith? Keith, as in your _friend_ Keith? What are you _talking_ about??”

 

“I’m talking about how I’m never gonna let my older sister date some guy with a _mullet_!” Lance banged his fist down on the table. “All that guy likes are knives and space wolves! He wouldn’t treat you right!”

 

“How would you know how Keith would treat me?” Veronica quirked her eyebrow and licked her lips. “Maybe his mullet is full of tenderness that no one has dared to search for, yet. Maybe I’m the one who can turn that mullet into something beautiful!”

 

Lance entire face burst into red. A warm hand on her wrist distracted Allura from listening to his outrage as he exploded. “I’m so glad that you could sit down with us tonight,” his mother said, her regular volume just barely audible over her children’s bickering. “Lance has never brought a girl home before, much less one like you! You must be very special to him.”

 

Allura pursed her lips. “You know, that isn’t the first time I’ve heard such a thing. I wonder why? Lance always gave off the impression of being rather popular with girls.”

 

Lance’s mother smiled fondly, her eyes drifting over to her youngest child, still adamantly protesting Veronica’s ‘interest’ in Keith. “He gets that from his father, I’m afraid. It’s just this act he puts on. The men in this family are all bark, no bite.” She patted Allura’s wrist again and moved away, picking her glass. “Get past that cool guy act, and you’ll find a good boy with a good heart.”

 

Allura felt a pang of something aching, dull over time but blunt enough to hurt, strike her chest as Rosa took an idle sip of water. She picked up her own drink and watched her fingertips disturb the condensation on the outside of the glass. Her mind suddenly felt cloudy and sluggish, weighed down with the feeling of being out of place.

 

Loud, booming laughter dragged her out of her thoughts. “God, I’m going to miss this,” Lance’s father said, sighing from his spot at the head of the table. “This house will grow so quiet without you both here to fill it with your bickering.”

 

Lance’s face grew stormy, and he traded a guilty look with Veronica. The older woman leaned toward her father and patted the back of his hand. “We’ll be back before you know it, _Papi_ ,” she consoled him, her eyes adapting a wet-looking shimmer.

 

“Yeah, _Pa_ … er – Dad.” Lance coughed to hide the stumble of his words before folding his forearms on the table. He swept his gaze over everyone gathered at the table, the blue shade of them turned soft with affection. “Once we leave, the next time we’ll be back will be permanent.”

 

“Oh, Ernesto,” Rosa said softly. “Don’t cry, you’ll get me started, too.”

 

“Don’t get _Mami_ started, Pa,” Luis scolded, “you’ll set off a chain reaction! Then Allura will never want to have another dinner with us again because we’re all a bunch of weirdoes who cry a lot!”

 

Lance’s father gave a wet chuckle and reached for his drink. The legs of his chair scraped as he stood, lifting the glass into the air. “I want to dedicate this toast to my children,” he said, gesturing to Lance and Veronica to his right. “Thank you for all that you do, both of you. Veronica, my baby girl –“

 

“Hey!” Rachel protested from the small table.

 

“ – and Lance, my youngest son. Thank you for your bravery and courage as you fight to protect your home from people who want to see it in shambles.”

 

Lance’s mother rose next, her own glass raised. The table redirected their attention to her. “To family.”

 

Allura felt the corners of her eyes sting as the others raised their own glasses, repeating Rosa’s pledge. Veronica lifted her own drink in a toast, and suddenly, Allura found herself staring into Lance’s deep, concerned blue eyes.

 

He offered her a tiny, uncertain smile, a silent question asked in the slope of his eyebrows: are you okay? She thinned her lips and nodded, reaching out for her own glass. “To family,” she echoed, raising it into the air. Lance’s smile widened, and he turned away to repeat the pledge himself, his malt soda raised high.

 

* * *

 

 

 “Sir, she’s stabilized.”

 

The word stood out among the other murmurings, snagging on a thorn in Romelle’s drowsy mind. She reluctantly moved away from the edge of unconsciousness and cracked her eyes open, blinking away the sleep and straightening up from her slumped position against the wall. “Luca..?”

 

At her mumble, Sam Holt and the doctor turned from where they stood before the one-way window. “She’s awake,” Sam said quietly, tilting his head to watch Romelle walk up to his side, smoothing her hands over her hair and straightening her uniform top. “Standard procedure for conscious comatose patients has been utilized – checking her pupils, her vitals, her response times to stimuli – and physically, she appears to be perfectly fine.”

 

Romelle grimaced at the implied ‘but’ hanging on the end. “Physically?”

 

Sam pressed his lips into a thin line. “Dr. Choi believes that mentally, she… hasn’t recovered.”

 

“What happened to her mind?” Romelle questioned.

 

“Reports indicate that just before she emerged from her sleep, there was a spike in brain activity.” Dr. Goun Choi, chief head medical officer at the Garrison, turned to offer his input. “She began to murmur things, more or less sleep-talking. It was incoherent at first, but as time passed, the universal translator began to recognize word patterns instead of mumbling.” He glanced down at his PADD, scrolling through the report. “She began to talk about betrayal, the colony, a savior…” He grimaced. “You, Ms. Romelle.”

 

Romelle’s eyes widened. “She mentioned me..?”

 

Sam tilted his head toward the entrance to the lab. “Once she fully awoke, she completely shut us out,” he said. “Maybe interacting with a drastically different stimulus could yield results.”

 

Romelle stared at the Altean, still sitting on her bed, legs drawn up. Uncertainty dwelled in her, hard and cold like a stone settled in her gut, but she nodded and sidled around Sam toward the entrance. She paused to let Dr. Choi input his security code, and sucked in a breath to brace herself before the doors slid open.

 

The air inside the lab was cool and sterile, carrying the scent of medicine on it. Romelle’s footsteps felt like the loudest sound in the room once the doors sealed behind her, louder than even the electrocardiograph, steadily beeping to demonstrate Luca’s heartbeat. Romelle stopped a few feet away, weight shifted onto one leg.

 

“Luca,” she said softly. “It’s good to see you awake.”

 

Luca hugged her legs tighter. Her lips remained tightly sealed, pressed into a thin line of neutrality.

 

Romelle took a step closer. “How are you feeling? I hope the humans have been taking good care of you while you were asleep. Do you need me to get you anything? Some water, maybe a snack?” Luca did not turn her head, and Romelle let the end of her question dangle uncertainly. “Erm. Anyway, you don’t know how relieved I am to know you’re alright. Allura and I have been worried sick these past few phoebs.”

 

“Allura…”

 

Romelle’s face perked up at the dry, brittle sound – Luca’s voice. “Yes, yes, Princess Allura,” she encouraged, staring hopefully at the back of Luca’s head. “She’s been watching over you almost constantly ever since you, well, exploded in the upper atmosphere.”

 

“Wouldn’t want her test subject to escape, I’d imagine.” Luca hugged her legs tighter, stubbornly keeping her face hidden from view.

 

Confusion pricked at Romelle like thorns. “Test subject? What? You aren’t a test subject, Luca. Allura has never seen another Altean besides Coran and I. She was watching over you in hopes that you would live. It was pretty ‘touch and go’, as the humans say.”

 

“Oh, so you’re using their expressions now?” A peculiar sound, coated and cracked with the rust of disuse, escaped Luca’s mouth, born from the back of the throat, and Romelle’s smile faded away as she realized that Luca was chuckling. “You really have betrayed us, then. I never would have thought you, of all people, would sell me out to Princess Allura.” The vertebrae in her neck popped as she slowly turned her head away from the wall. Romelle’s heart plummeted into icy cold fear at the hatred twisting Luca’s features, a sneer curled onto her lips, teeth bared. “But I guess the universe is funny like that.”

 

“Luca, what are you talking about?” Romelle asked, throwing a desperate glance at the one-way glass. “I haven’t sold you or anyone out. And to… what do you mean, ‘to Princess Allura’?”

 

Luca chuckled again, mirthless. “My God, they brainwashed you. I shouldn’t be surprised by how low those Voltron _quiflas_ will go, and yet…” 

 

Romelle clenched her fists at her sides. “Luca, I’m not the one who’s been brainwashed.” She grit her teeth, and switched gears, walking over to her fellow Altean’s bedside. “Look, I don’t know who has told you all of that, but I can assure you that isn’t not true. We simply want to help you, you just emerged from a coma, Luca. Tell me what happened to you, why you were flying that giant robot, what’s going on at the colony.”

 

Luca narrowed her eyes. “Why do you want to know? So you can lead Voltron right to their doorstep? I don’t quiznaking think so, traitor.”

 

“What are you talking about?!” Romelle pleaded. “’Traitor’?!”

 

“Yes, that’s right. _Traitor_.” The electrocardiograph began to beep faster, an electronic pulse that picked up with the speed of her words as Luca lowered her legs and pushed the blanket away, rising out of bed with a shake to her knees, ignoring the wires that tugged taut with her distance from the machines. “You abandoned us, Romelle – your family, your friends, your people. You left us to be on the wrong side of this war, with _Princess Allura_ and her weapon of mass destruction. Voltron killed Lotor, Romelle, how could you just ignore that?”

 

Romelle ground her teeth together. “Lotor was _not_ the savior we thought he was,” she said, carefully enunciating each word. 

 

Luca’s eye twitched, and the beeping grew even faster. “I hope you’re happy with your choice. You’ll see the truth soon, when She shows you the wrongs Voltron have done, and I hope she can forgive you for your betrayal, because I won’t.”

 

“I haven’t _betrayed_ you!” Romelle snapped.

 

“Yes, you have!” Luca spat, banging her fist down on the examination table. The padded cushion didn’t yield much a sound, but Romelle backed away as though Luca has shattered glass. “Voltron _killed_ Lotor, Romelle! How can you still be on their side?!”

 

“Lotor died at the result of his own mistakes!” Romelle hissed. “He wanted power, and he got it at the cost of his life!”

 

Luca’s eye twitched again, twice in succession, and she grit her teeth in a snarl, fists balling up. “I hope She never forgives you for betraying us! I hope She shows you the repercussions of your choice, and makes you rot for them!” Her mouth curled up into a twisted grin. “And oh, you will rot for them. You and your horrid little friends will never stand a chance against Honerva and her –“

 

A shrill scream pierced through the angry red haze that clouded Romelle’s mind, and as Luca collapsed to the ground, the wires plugged into her body tearing loose as she fell. Only the wireless monitor strapped to her chest remained active, and the equivalent of Luca’s heart beat impossibly fast as she began to thrash violently, limbs snapping back and forth, head smashing against the floor, Romelle realized that she was the one who screamed.

 

“Luca!” Romelle rushed to Luca’s side, dropping to her knees. She desperately tried to turn her onto her side, sliding her hands under Luca’s jerking head to keep it from banging on the hard ground. “Luca, it’s going to be alright! Just breathe!” She looked back at the pane of one-way glass, desperate and afraid. “What’s happening?! Sam, Dr. Choi, anyone! Please, help her!!”

 

“I’m sorry, my liege!” Luca screamed, arching her back and craning her neck at an painful angle, a lightning bolt of agony tearing through her. “Please, I never meant to – “ She suddenly went very, very still, mouth still gaping in a scream. Her amber eyes went blank, the light leaving them, before they rolled into the back of her skull. Romelle’s pupils shrunk with horror as Luca slumped back down to the ground, limp in Romelle’s arms.

 

The human doctors rushed in a second too late, running around the room. Someone pulled Luca out of Romelle’s grasp, rolling her onto her back as someone else rolled some machines over, quickly crowding around the unresponsive Altean to try and, fruitlessly, revive her.

The electrocardiograph sung a constant, low note, and Romelle’s voice rose to join it in a scream of terror.

 

* * *

 

 

“…so that’s how come twins are a thing. Crazy, right?”

 

“Indeed. The concept is almost as strange as humans growing multiple sets of teeth! I’ve never heard of a species who does that! They have teeth one moment, they fall out one at a time, and then newer, stronger teeth grow in place of the old ones! And it doesn’t even hurt! That’s almost stranger than the Unilu practice of self-mutilation with needles for artistic demonstration, or the Lillaedian concept of consuming toxic liquids to induce impaired mind states.”

 

“…..actually...?”

 

Allura burst into laughter. “You do those things, too, don’t you?! Stars have mercy, your species will never fail to surprise me.”

 

Lance grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Honestly, we never fail to surprise ourselves, really.”

 

Allura shared his smile, her own teeth hidden by the mischievous pull of her lips. Her eyes slid past his face, glowing eyes and soft smile, and her own amusement faded at the sight of the skeletal shrubbery standing along the sides of the pathway, the ground underfoot littered with the brown, dried out remains of leaves that were once green. They walked under the saturated spotlight of a lamppost, crooked from some impact, and Allura caught Lance’s mouth morph into a thoughtful frown, his own gaze wandering forward.

 

A giant tree towered in the middle of the small park, its trunk gnarled with age. Many of its limbs stretched out and upward, reaching for the clouds like sickly-thin fingers. Its leaves lie in a desolate heap at the base of its cracked black trunk, a line of scorch marks from laser fire burned diagonally up its bark. The dirt, dried out and gray like ash, was thin around its trunk, and the tree’s roots were shriveled up where they protruded from the ground like the bulging of veins, or the bones of malnourished people.

 

Lance’s soft voice startled her out of her reverie. “This tree,” he began quietly. “It used to be so beautiful.” Allura turned her head to study him, her lips parted and brows pinched as he took a step forward, craning his neck back to gaze up at the reaching branches.

 

Lance smiled, tinged with sadness. “They’re called jacarandas. Back in Cuba, my grandma had a pink one in her front yard. She called it _Chimosa_ , because she’d liked to sit underneath it and talk to it, share the latest gossip with it. Man, she’d get so mad when we tried to climb it.” Lance chuckled to himself, eyes distant with memories. “We would always race to see who could get the highest without her noticing. I won one day, when she was taking a nap inside, but I got stuck up there for, like, two hours. Everyone was so mad at me…”

 

The story dripped with bittersweet nostalgia. Something in her chest – that dull, aching thing that hurt in a blunt sort of way – twisted at the tale.  Allura closed her eyes, blocking out the view of Lance’s heartbroken face as he gazed at the tree. “I’m sorry, Lance,” she whispered, tilting her head back. “This is my fault.”

 

Lance turned back at her. “No, it’s not,” he protested just as softly, brows pinched as she cracked open her eyes, silver eyelashes fluttering as she gazed up at the twisted branches. “What makes you say that…?”

 

Allura brushed past him, stepping over the small barrier surrounding the towering jacaranda. Ignoring the dirt and clumps of leaf that clung to her heels, she waded through the dead foliage, high-stepping until she reached the trunk. She closed her eyes and raised her hand, placing her palm on the gnarled twist of a knoll, softer, smoother wood exposed by a hole blasted in the blackened bark. Allura turned her attention inward, the sounds around her cutting out as she reached out for it, the core within her that coursed and sizzled with raw energy. It pulsed eagerly as she neared it, reaching out for her, and she met it halfway, letting it flow through her, channeled through her veins like electrical currents. Allura pictured the tree once more, with its cracked, peeling bark, the shriveled up roots, the crooked branches, then let the tree from Lance’s tale whisk through her mind: vibrant purple blossoms, some shifting into pink as she recalled his grandmother’s _Chimosa_ , sprawling branches that clawed for the clouds in the sky, large enough to lend support to a scruffy little Lance wearing a grin of victory, to cast shade over his grandmother as she gossiped with it like an old friend.

 

Allura let her own stories flow through her like a stream, channeling the spirit of _Chimosa_ through her, and when she opened her eyes, the trunk, glowing bright blue like a beacon, began to fade back to normal.

 

Lance looked gobsmacked as she turned back to face him. “ _Allura_ ,” he breathed, unable to look away from the treetop, watching pink and purple petals gently float down from the canopy.

 

“It’s the least I can do,” she whispered, striding back over to the stone barrier she’d crossed over. “For bringing the Galra to your planet, practically leading them to your homes, your families, for pushing you all to expose them further…” Allura bowed her head, the blade of guilt lodged in her gut twisting sharply as she thought about the warm, loving people she’d had dinner with not even a varga ago, and what would have been if they’d been _gone_. “…I never considered that everyone else had something to lose when I did not. That people might not want to risk their families for a princess who doesn’t have one.” She turned back toward the tree, craning her neck around to watch petals flutter down from the top of _Chimosa_ reborn. Her breath shook as she exhaled, and when she closed her eyes, tears clung to her lashes. “And for that, I am so deeply, deeply sorry.”

 

“Allura… listen to me.” Something warm encompassed her hand, and Allura turned back and opened her eyes to see Lance raise up his own, her delicate fingers cradled in the curve of his palm. “If you led the Galra right to our homes, then we opened up the door for them.” He offered her a small, private smile and rubbed his thumb across her knuckles almost absentmindedly. “You know, I never really was a guy who believed in solid, unchangeable destiny. I’ve always felt that… that you can change your fate if you do the right things, make the right choices. But if anything in my life was set in stone from the start, it was the Blue Lion bringing me to you – bringing us together as a team, as Voltron.” He squeezed her hand gently. “You may not realize it, but you have people to lose, too, people who – who would be devastated if anything happened to you. Coran, the team, Romelle, Krolia… even Cosmo. Even… even me.” His cheeks flushed, darker than they were at the start of his confession. “We’re your family, Allura, and families protect each other no matter what. None of us blame you for the Galra finding our planet – so why should you?”

 

Allura felt her breath catch in her throat, eyes ensnared by the warm, blue glow of Lance’s gaze. “Lance…”

 

“Yeah?” he asked, nothing but a breathless whisper.

 

Allura held his eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.”

 

Lance chuckled quietly. “You’re welcome. I’m always here, as long as you’ll have me.”

 

“I think I’ll keep you around,” Allura teased, pulling her hand out of his and bringing it up to his face, resting her palm along the line of his jaw.

 

Lance chuckled at her joke, a two-beat sound from his chest. “Thanks.”

 

The air between them shifted, a subtle change in the density of the atmosphere, and for a moment, Allura struggled to breathe. As if sensing her waver, Lance gave her hand a squeeze, meant to comfort and anchor, and a kind smile.

 

Allura surrendered to his lead, closing her eyes as Lance’s arms came to lightly circle her waist. His hands rested on the small of her back, one on her waist, the warmth of his palm seeping through the material, and her own hands, on autopilot, reached to settle on his forearms, resting on the crook of the elbows.

 

Their foreheads brushed, noses bumping ever so slightly, their breaths mingling. Lance’s arm beneath her hold tensed, a muscle twitching, but the brief pause of hesitation was swept away by the cool press of his lips against her own. Allura examined his face for a moment, taking in the flutter of his eyelashes and the flushed state of his cheeks, before letting her own eyelids drift shut as he pressed closer, changing the angle of the kiss to renew it, a hint of minty breath escaping into the space between their mouths.

 

After a moment of standing close, their mouths chastely connected, Lance drew back, tilting his head to press his forehead to hers. He opened his eyes and watched her serene, satisfied smile with one of his own, his gut squirming excitedly. He’d been dreaming about this moment ever since they’d grown closer as more-than-teammates; he could pinpoint the exact moment when he’d fallen for her, in the training deck when she’s swept him off of his feet and offered to help with his stance.

 

Allura cracked open her eyes and peered up at him through her long, silver eyelashes. She opened her mouth to say something, but a series of electronic beeps and boops came out instead. Lance blinked, startled, but his surprise was waved off by the whir of mechanical wheels coming closer. They turned to watch Beezer skid to a stop before them, beeping excitedly as he scooped up fallen petals and deposited them in a hatch in his metal chassis.

 

“Beezer? What are you doing here, little guy?” Lance asked, tilting his head in confusion. He reached out and plucked the leaf from Beezer’s appendage, watching him gesticulate wildly.

 

“What does he want?” Allura asked, watching his monitor change with different symbols, the eye-like line turning into a plus symbol.

 

“Maybe Pidge spent him here to spy on us,” Lance suggested, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Is that it? Talk, tough guy, and maybe I’ll go easy on you for interrupting my date.”

 

Beezer seemed distressed at the accusation, and jumped up and down off the ground. With his appendage, he pointed to them, then himself – specifically his eye.

 

“I still don’t understand what he means,” Allura admitted, rubbing her arm.

 

Lance paused. “I think he wants us to smile,” he said, smiling wider as Beezer jumped and squealed, a check-mark symbol lighting up his interface. He half-turned back to Allura, offering his arm to her, and felt his heart do a lazy somersault as she linked her arm around his, leaning in to rest her head on his shoulder.

 

Beezer’s eye blinked, numbers 1-3 appearing on his monitor, and Lance blinked just before the camera shutter clicked, a flash making him see red spots. With the sound of an old printer, a picture rolled out of the slot on Beezer’s frame, and his cat-like ear extensions waggled as he rolled forward. Lance bent down to tug the picture out, giving it a shake or two before straightening up again. Beezer whirled around and raced off, back to wherever he’d come from, as Lance showed the picture to Allura.

 

“Oh, I think I blinked,” Allura remarked, disappointed.

 

Lance smiled. “You can keep it, then,” he said, handing the photo off to her. “I don’t need it to remember this night.”  

 

Allura returned his soft smile, eyes crinkling at the corners as she gingerly took the picture. “Thank you.” She pressed it up against her chest, smiling softly at him.

 

* * *

 

“What do I tell Allura?”

 

Coran watched Romelle stare down at her trembling hands, face still pale with horror, eyes still clouded with terror and pain.

 

“…the truth,” he said quietly, crossing his arms.

 

The hiss of a door sliding open made both of them jump. Coran grimaced as Allura took in the sight of them, her glowing smile fading. “Coran?” she asked, taking a step into the room. “Romelle? What are you both doing in here?”

 

Romelle’s breath caught at the question. Coran reached down and placed a hand on her shoulder, strong and reassuring. “We have news about the Altean pilot, Princess,” he began, quiet and subdued. “She’s… gone.”

 

“Gone…?” Allura’s eyes widened. “What do you mean, _gone_?” she asked sharply, eyes cold as she stared at her advisor. Romelle shifted in her seat, and Allura redirected her stare to pierce right through Romelle’s watery eyes. “Romelle.”

 

Romelle winced at that cold, commanding tone of steel being used against her. “Luca came to about an hour after you left,” she admitted, hugging herself with her arms. Coran’s hand remained on her shoulder, a comfort anchoring her down. “I went in to try to talk to her. The confrontation we had was rather… high-strung, and in the middle of our fight, she…” Romelle’s eyes went distant, and her gaze drifted down to the ground. “…she collapsed. Her vitals dropped, and there was nothing we could do to bring her back. It was as if her life force just… vanished, like it was never there to begin with.” Romelle hugged herself tighter. “I’m sorry, Allura.”

 

Allura’s chest tightened as Romelle explained. “Why was I not informed?” she asked, her words a little high-pitched with shock. While she’d been laughing over Lance’s embarrassing childhood stories, Luca had…. “Romelle, I specifically told you to contact me if anything happened with her. _Why_ was I not informed?”

 

“It all happened within a span of three doboshes, Princess.” Coran stepped in, speaking gently. “There _was_ no time to inform you. Not until after she…” 

 

Allura stared at Coran with hard eyes. “I should have been notified the second she showed any promise of awakening,” she said, angrily enunciating each syllable. “Romelle directly disobeyed me, and now, both our only lead on the robeast’s origins and the only sign of our people being alive is _gone_.”

 

“Luca…” Romelle gulped as she spoke, wilting under Allura’s glare. “While we spoke, she… said some things.”

 

“Like what?”

 

* * *

 

 

“ _I haven’t_ betrayed _you!”_

_“Yes, you have! Voltron_ killed _Lotor, Romelle! How can you still be on their side?!”_

_“Lotor died at the result of his own mistakes! He wanted power, and he got it at the cost of his life!”_

_“I hope She never forgives you for betraying us! I hope She shows you the repercussions of your choice, and makes you rot for them! And oh, you will rot for them. You and your horrid little friends will never stand a chance against Honerva and her_ –“

 

Allura shook her head minutely, stony eyes transfixed on the holoscreen as the Altean pilot – Luca – collapsed, Romelle rushing over to her side. “I should have never left,” she murmured, lips barely parting as the words escaped, too shocked to contain them. Shiro at her side shot her an alarmed look, and paused the footage. “This happened because of my absence. I should not have entertained such childish desires, and passed off my duty to someone else.” Romelle flinched from her spot across the table. Allura lowered her head into her hands, hiding her eyes behind the twined seam of her fingers. “I should have been here.”

 

Shiro, beside Allura, glanced at her from the side of his eye. He caught the watery gleam in her eyes just before she hid them. “This did _not_ happen because of you,” he began, putting his prosthetic hand on the back of her chair. “Allura –“

 

“No, Shiro, it _did_ happen because of me.” Allura shoved her chair away from the table and stood suddenly, balling her fists at her side. Tranquil fury overtook her, making her hands shake and the marks around her eyes glow. “Honerva thinks I killed her child. So in return, she’s taken mine – and tried turning them against me.” Allura sucked in a shaky breath, putting her hands on the edge of the table. “If Honerva sent that robeast, then our mission must change.”

 

“No.” Shiro interjected himself into the dialogue, cutting her off at the pass. “We have a plan, and we need to stick to it. If Honerva is really behind all of this, then I’m sure that we’ll find her along the way.”

 

Allura lowered her eyes to the holoscreen, narrowing them at the HD picture. “Or she’ll find us…”

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

> **_BEEPBEEPBEEP!_ **
> 
> **_BEEPBEEPBEEP!_ **
> 
> **_BEEPBEEPBEEP!_ **
> 
> **_BEEPBEEPBEEP!_ **
> 
> **_BEEPBE_** –

 

“ _… **’re listening to 92.9 FM in the morning, with today’s best country music! 60 minutes of uninterrupted, commercial-free music sponsored by Caesar’s Pizza**_ **– _ista quidem savis est_**!”

 

 _‘Baby, lock the door and turn the lights down low,_  
_put some music on that’s soft and slow…_  
_Baby, we ain’t got no place to go,_  
_I hope you understand…_ ’

Keith let his arm fall like deadweight, clammy fingers slipping off of the top of the alarm. His hand swung back down to the side of the bed, the bony prominence of his wrist banging against the metal frame with a hollow bang.

 

The sound hurt more than the actual hit. Keith groaned into his pillow, the muffled noise petering out as the pressure in his temple turned oppressive, stifling any and all urge to vocalize his frustration.

 

He tilted his head to the side, cheek buried in the pillow but eyes still revealed. The pounding behind his eyelids made him moan again, and with a miserable amount of effort, Keith cracked his eyes open again.

 

A pair of gold eyes, reflective in the dim of his bedroom, blinked back at him. “Good, you aren’t dead.”

 

Keith sighed, bringing his arms up under himself. He pushed himself up with his elbows, blinking languidly at his mother sitting in a chair near the TV, a bundle of yarn in her lap. “I wish I was,” he grumbled, swinging his legs out from beneath the light blanket and over the edge of the bed. He rubbed his eyes, pressing the heels of his palms into the sockets as pain pulsed from the back of his eyeballs. “God, why didn’t I get anything good from your Galra genes? The height, the intimidation factor, the alcohol tolerance…?”

 

Krolia looked almost offended. “You got my looks, didn’t you?”

 

Keith heaved another sigh, letting his hands fall into his lap. “Yeah, right.” He braced his hands on his knees and pushed himself up, grunting as various joints popped very vocally. “Maybe I got something good from you after all. I don’t feel like puking my brains out.”

 

“Probably because you already did that,” Krolia said.

 

“Oh. That makes sense. I was wondering why my mouth tasted so bad.” Keith’s eyes drifted over to the nightstand, the same one that hosted his alarm clock. The male singer continued to croon from the speakers, ‘ _I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout this all day long, never felt a feeling quite this strong… I can’t believe how much it turns me on_ –‘ “Ugh,” Keith scoffed, switching to a different station; the last thing he wanted to listen to was a song about being turned on by commitment, when his mom was right there.

 

‘ _Oh, no I never got over those blue eyes_  
_I see them every where_  
_I miss_ –‘

 

Keith flipped to the next station with a wince.

 

‘ _And I don't know_  
_How to be fine when I'm not_  
_'Cause I don't know_  
_How to make a feeling stop_ –‘

 

Krolia pursed her lips thoughtfully as she watched her son change the station once more, growing angrier with every new song that played.

 

‘ _Havana, ooh na na  
Half of my heart is in Havana_ –‘

 

‘ – _other hole in the wall of my inner defenses_  
_Leaving me breathless, the reason I know_  
_That I am stricken and can't let you go_ –‘

 

‘ – _let you down_  
_Like a fool I fell in love with you_  
_You turned my whole world upside down_  
_Layla, you got me on my knees_ –‘

 

“Ugh, just forget it!” Keith shouted, swiping the radio clock off of the bedside table in a fit of anger. The poor device flew across the room, hitting the spot beside the bathroom door with a loud crack. A plastic panel fell off of the back, exposing the batteries. The radio continued to play soft music, vaguely distorted and broken-up: ‘ _¿_ _Y quien te escribirá poemas y cartas? Y quien te contara sus miedos y faltas? A quien_ –‘

 

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Keith mumbled, rising from the bed. He pointedly ignored Krolia’s eyes as he reached for his uniform, haphazardly folded on the small dresser beside the tiny closet, and hurried into the bathroom. He gently closed the door, shutting himself off from his mother’s shocked stare. 

 

* * *

 

“T-minus ten and counting.”

 

Behind the stage, the crowd murmured excitedly. The stagehand skittered away, inserting herself among the Garrison personnel that was scrambling around to ensure a successful launch. Shiro stood serenely among the chaos, a beacon of calm in the panic with his hands folded behind his back.

 

“This is it, team,” he said, sweeping his eyes down the lineup of Paladins. Their levity-like smiles faded to match his solemn grimace. “The time has finally come – for us to end this war, once and for all.

 

“Before me stands five of the finest warriors in the universe,” he continued. “Five of the smartest, bravest, most selfless soldiers I’ve ever met – five brilliant kids who I am so, so proud of.” Shiro’s eyes went soft, and he lowered his chin, gracefully stepping down from the marble pedestal he’d been placed on, as Captain of the Atlas; once more becoming their teammate, friend, and father-figure. “I want each of you to know, and to understand, just how immensely proud I am.” His eyes met each one of the Paladins’, lingering when Allura held his gaze. He hesitantly opened his mouth to say more.

 

Commander Iverson emerged from the crowd of rushing personnel, falling into place at Shiro’s flank. “Launch in eight, Shirogane,” he said.  “I’d advise you wrap up the pep talk.”

 

Shiro nodded at him, and returned his attention to the Paladins. “Let’s get a move on, team,” he ordered, tilting his head toward the stage. “I’ve got one last motivational speech to give to all of humanity before launch. It’ll take me a good two minutes to deliver it, so let’s go.”

 

Keith, at the front of the lineup, nodded with a grimace. He was clearly not a fan of all the noise, even more so than usual. “Let’s get this over with,” he muttered, wincing at the pain in his temple.

 

Shiro led the way onto stage, the Paladins filed in line behind him. He stepped up to the podium, the microphone clipped to his collar crackling with feedback as someone in the wings turned it on. The crowd instantly grew quiet, silence overcoming each and every person in the audience as they turned their full attention on the stage.  

 

“This will, perhaps, be the most defining moment of our history,” Shiro said, his voice echoing into the microphone. “The day humankind reaches beyond its home world to help the immense universe in which we inhabit such a small part.” He paused, letting his voice reverberate across the fields of hushed people. His eyes fell down to his prosthetic arm, resting flat on the podium. “In the blink of an eye, the world became so much larger than we ever thought possible.” His mechanical fingers curled into a tight fist. “But now, we rise up to join the fight alongside so many others than are different from us, but of like minds; we rise to stand firm in the face of tyranny, for all deserve to decide their own future, as we have decided to spend ours ensuring the freedom of the universe.” He stopped again, letting his gaze linger on a certain group within the crowd; Krolia, from within the ranks of the Blade of Marmora, smiled at him. He offered her a small smile back before referring to the crowd once more. “Each and every one of you has given something for this fight – your stability, your comfort, your routines. Your favorite foods, your warm beds, your blood, sweat and tears… Many people have been lost in the conflict, but they will not be forgotten. We will forever remember their sacrifices, for because of their heroic deeds, many more will live on.” Shiro closed his eyes and stopped, the curved wall of a memorial flashing behind his eyelids. He let out a two-beat breath to stabilize his mind, then soldiered on. “I make you this promise, now: we _will_ return – and when we do, we will return triumphant!”

 

Shiro raised his left arm into the air, fist held high to the sky, and instantly, the audience flung up their arms to join him in solidarity, uproarious in the wake up his speech. One by one, the Garrison personnel gathered onstage behind him lifted their arms too, proudly signifying their stake in the fight; the Paladins of Voltron raised their own fists to join the rally, five arms shooting into the sky in unison.

 

The rancoeur of the crowd grew louder, plateauing at a chanting level even as the Atlas crew filed into the ship for launch protocol.

 

On the bridge, Captain Shirogane squared his shoulders. “Activate interlock,” he commanded.

 

In the engineering room, Sam nodded. “Dynotherms connected… mega-thrusters are go. Ready to depart on your mark, Captain.”

 

“Fire main engines for launch!”

 

At his word, the Atlas began to rumble underfoot, haltingly climbing up into the atmosphere. Clouds, fluffy and white but tinged with gold from the morning sun, the light growing sharper and more intense as they ascended toward the exosphere. The sun bounced off the curve of the Earth, flaring through the thick glass of the viewfinder and onto the determined, wistful faces of the Paladins of Voltron.

 

**Author's Note:**

> military time: 1500 = 3:00 pm, 2000 = 8:00 pm, 1600 = 4:00 pm
> 
>  
> 
> spanish translations (according to various internet sources. sorry for inaccuracy, i'm american)  
> cafecito - cuban coffee  
> chiquita - little girl, 'girlie'  
> hermanito - little brother, 'bro'  
> La comida está lista! Nadia, pon la mesa, Sylvio, hacer las bebidas! - dinner is ready! nadia, set the table; sylvio, make the drinks!  
> Chimosa - gossiper  
> ¿Y quien te escribirá poemas y cartas? Y quien te contara sus miedos y faltas? A quien... - Who will write you love letters and poems? Who will confide in you their fears and weaknesses? Who will...
> 
>  
> 
> the songs that play on keith's clock radio are:  
> your man - josh turner  
> i still miss someone - stevie nicks (johnny cash cover)  
> just so you know - jesse mccartney  
> havana - camilla cabello  
> stricken - disturbed  
> layla - derek and the dominoes  
> ahora quien - marc anthony
> 
> yes i did research on what radio stations play in arizona. no judge pls
> 
>  
> 
> this will probably be the first in a series of other episode rewrites. i was fine with season 8 in the beginning, but the second half after the filler eps was a total disaster. the major part of my changes happen around Day 47 and onward, but it may be a while before those rewrites see the light of ao3. this one took me a month to write, so :) let me know if you actually care about my hot take
> 
> my greatest regret about this is removing the scenes w/ coran and lance before the date. i would have kept it in, albeit with changes, but honestly i just forgot, and then couldn't find a place for it to go in and still fit with the narrative. sorry :( 
> 
>  
> 
> remember to like comment and subscribe!!!1!


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